


Life Is What Happens To You While You're Busy Making Other Plans

by lourryintheskywithdiamonds



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cravings, Established Relationship, M/M, Menstruation, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, but louis comforts him so it's all good, there's a lot of crying!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1967835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lourryintheskywithdiamonds/pseuds/lourryintheskywithdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Harry opens his eyes; emerald meets sapphire. “I’m pregnant,” he says in such an infinitesimal voice that Louis isn’t certain he heard correctly at first, but when he looks up at Harry – Harry, who’s got furrowed eyebrows and a deep crease between them that Louis wants to kiss until it’s smooth because it looks so out of place on its porcelain canvas. Harry, who’s biting his lip in apprehension and whose beautiful, green eyes are rimmed with red that only makes the green stand out even more. Harry, who is his sun and moon and planets and all of his stars and whom he cannot imagine - cannot fathom - not being without – not waking up next to him every morning; not brushing his teeth next to him while they make stupid faces at each other in the mirror; not having food fights with him over breakfast. When he looks up at Harry, he feels so many different emotions at once that he gets head rush, but the main emotion that’s fighting to be heard over all of the others is simply love, because in that moment, Louis knows without a doubt that Harry is the only person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, and, more importantly, he knows that he couldn’t find a better person to start a family with if he wanted to.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Is What Happens To You While You're Busy Making Other Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [britneyamber](https://archiveofourown.org/users/britneyamber/gifts).



> I've been excited about this for such a long time! Thanks to the admins of this fic exchange for organising it and thanks to britneyamber for the prompts - I had a hard time choosing which one to do, but I hope you like this. <3
> 
> You'll find that yes, Harry does get periods, because I'm extremely fussy about biological correctness. Also, please note that this is set in an alternate universe where about 2 in 5 men have the ability to get pregnant - during puberty, some males will randomly start periods whereas others will just not.
> 
>  
> 
> I know that this isn't _massively_ long, but it _is_ the longest fic I've ever written, so it was a bit of a challenge, and I needed some assistance with it. I want to say a massive, One Direction-style thank you to two of my best friends who have held my hand through all of this and whom I love dearly...
> 
> [Z](http://poisonuhs.tumblr.com/) \- thanks for helping me organise my thoughts and giving me some of the original ideas for this, and also for passive-aggressively motivating me to work on it. You're not even _in_ the One Direction fandom, yet you're as invested in this fic as I am and you put up with my ramblings every day.
> 
> [G](http://showmeutopia.tumblr.com/) \- thanks for your constant encouragement and support in my fic-writing (and reading). You're the Harry to my Louis, and I don't know where some of these scenes would be if I didn't have your help (specifically, that one FaceTime we had).
> 
>    
> Title from 'Beautiful Boy (Beautiful Darling)' by John Lennon.
> 
>  **DISCLAIMER:** I (sadly) do not own or personally know Louis, Harry, any of the other One Direction boys, or anyone affiliated with them. This is a work of _fiction_ , so please do not share this with anyone even the tiniest bit associated with them.

**9:27am//Tuesday, 10 th February 2015**

When it starts, they’re in the baby section in Zara, looking for a token gift to buy for Louis’ mum and his brand new baby brother and sister. They’ve been here for half an hour now, Louis’ got a pounding headache, and he wants nothing more than to go home, down seven cups of Yorkshire Tea and never have to see a bloody pastel-coloured item of clothing ever  again once they’ve visited the babies. But of course Harry insists on meticulously examining everything, partly because _it’s vitally important to your big brother status and my big brother **in-law** status that we get the **perfect** present, Lou_ , but mainly just because he’s Harry. In all honesty, Louis stopped paying attention several minutes ago and has just been staring blankly at the wall, so it’s with a start and a noise of indignant disgruntlement that he realises Harry’s tugging on his shirt sleeve. Louis turns to face his boyfriend.

It takes a couple of seconds and some blinking for Louis’ vision to properly focus on what Harry’s holding in his hands, but when he realises what they are, he immediately sighs. “Put them back, H,” he says resignedly.

Harry pouts. “But imagine how cute they’d look on their tiny little feeties!”

Louis shakes his head firmly and holds out his upturned palm for the miniature Mary Janes and Chelsea boots. “They’re hardly an hour old, love; they won’t be able to walk for a long while yet.” After a pause and some more pouting, Harry relents and passes them over. Louis leans up to kiss him on the cheek.

They end up buying two thin, cotton sun hats: one pale yellow with pink butterflies and one with white and navy stripes.

~~~

**10:02am//Tuesday, 10 th February 2015**

They walk into the hospital room temporarily housing the new arrivals and their exhausted mother; Louis thinks that the only time he’s seen Harry grin this wide was when Louis cooked the only meal he’s cooked in his life for him on their one year anniversary (chicken stuffed with mozzarella, wrapped in Parma Ham, with a side of homemade mash).

After the two of them have had sex later that night, amidst a post-coital haze, Louis whispers into Harry’s sweat-sticky shoulder how maybe they can have a little one of their own some day.

~~~

**10:43pm//Saturday, 21 st February 2015**

Louis reaches the end of the fruit and vegetable aisle for what must be at least the third time and covertly glances left and right, taking in his surroundings. It’s a Saturday night - while most people his age are probably out getting wasted right now, Louis is in the Tesco ‘round the corner from the flat he shares with Harry. Harry’s at home panicking, as he started his period a few days earlier than he’s due to and doesn’t have anything for it, and so Louis – being the ever-caring boyfriend that he is – is here, trying to find the male sanitary towels. It _really_ shouldn’t be this much of a task – he can’t count the number of times he’s seen Harry chuck a packet into the trolley while they’re doing the weekly shop together – but he’s been trudging around in here for God knows how long now, and he thinks he might be going mad, because he’s searched high and low and he still can’t find them _anywhere_.

When a man who _doesn’t even work at the store_ stops to ask him if he needs any help with anything, he realises he must be looking sorrier for himself than he previously thought. With only a small amount of awkward blushing and fumbling, Louis explains what he’s looking for. The man chuckles at his obvious discomfort and points him in the right direction; Louis discovers they’re about a metre away from the door that he came in through.

With a new-found spring in his step now that he’s nearly fulfilled his mission, he makes his way to the checkout. The lady asks him if he’d like a bar of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk because “they’re better than half-price” and he happily accepts.

The grateful look on Harry’s face when Louis reveals his purchases to him makes the struggles he went through worth it.

~~~

**2:11am//Monday, 6 th April 2015//4 weeks pregnant**

When Louis wakes up, he immediately senses something not quite right in the air. He’s just bracing himself to roll over and check on Harry when the unmistakable sound of a stifled sniffle makes him freeze, every sense he has immediately alert – he and Harry are always finely attuned to each other’s emotions and feelings, and it genuinely hurts Louis to know Harry is upset in any way. Their sisters think it’s creepy; their mums think it’s cute; their friends just think it’s plain _weird_. He frowns, ever so slowly pushes himself upright, clicks on the lamp sitting on his bedside table and then turns to his right. “Haz?”

All he can see of his boyfriend is some chocolate brown curls peaking out above the crumpled duvet. He reaches out and gently cards his fingers through them – a fool-proof way of comforting Harry, whatever the situation. “Baby, what’s the matter? Please talk to me.” He talks in the way one might when trying not to spook a skittish animal. “At least look at me, come on,” he murmurs.

There are a few more sniffles and then the sheets are pulled down to reveal Harry. His cheeks are tear-stained and his face is blotchy red, but it’s Harry nonetheless, and he’s beautiful. When Louis looks into his eyes, he sees something he’s never seen directed at him from Harry before: fear. It unsettles Louis to say the least, but he tries his hardest to ignore it – to lock it up in the section of his brain he reserves for things he never wants to think about or remember ever again.

“You want to tell me what this is all about, darling?”

Harry breaks the steady eye contact they had been holding. Shuts his eyes. Swallows. Takes a deep breath before he speaks: “I know we have been talking about this a bit, but...just...please don’t be mad.” His voice cracks on the last word.

“Babe, what could you possibly-“

Harry opens his eyes; emerald meets sapphire. “I’m pregnant.” He says in such an infinitesimal voice that Louis isn’t certain he heard correctly at first, but when he looks up at Harry – Harry, who’s got furrowed eyebrows and a deep crease between them that Louis wants to kiss until it’s smooth because it looks so out of place on its porcelain canvas. Harry, who’s biting his lip in apprehension and whose beautiful, green eyes are rimmed with red that only makes the green stand out even more. Harry, who is his sun and moon and planets and all of his stars and whom he cannot imagine - cannot _fathom_ \- not being without – not waking up next to him every morning; not brushing his teeth next to him while they make stupid faces at each other in the mirror; not having food fights with him over breakfast. When he looks up at Harry, he feels so many different emotions at once that he gets head rush, but the main emotion that’s fighting to be heard over all of the others is simply _love_ , because in that moment, Louis knows without a doubt that Harry is the only person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, and, more importantly, he knows that he couldn’t find a better person to start a family with if he wanted to.

“Please don’t be mad.” Harry repeats. “I-I know I should’ve told you sooner. I just. I wasn’t-“

He’s rambling, now, and Louis’ so overwhelmed with _fond_ for this boy that the only way he can deal with it is to shut him up in the best way he knows how: to surge forward and kiss him. Harry immediately surrenders, falling back against the fluffy pillows and slowly melting into them. The kiss is messy, like most of their kisses, but it’s not heated in the way their kisses usually are. To Louis, the kiss feels like an _it’s okay, you’re okay, we’re okay_. It feels like a promise. He hopes Harry believes him.

When they – after a considerable amount of time - come up for air, Louis proceeds to pepper Harry’s cheeks, chin, forehead and closed eyelids with more kisses, whispering sweet nothings as he does it, and then he kisses his way slowly down Harry’s torso to end on the smooth skin of his belly, where he now knows is an embryo that’s half him and half Harry.

He looks up from where he’s crouched to see Harry already looking back at him. “I love you _so_ much. You know that, right?”

They eventually fall asleep like this: Louis spooning Harry, one of his hands clasped in Harry’s and the other curled around his boyfriend’s body to rest protectively on Harry’s flat, warm tummy. They can talk in the morning.

~~~

**7:39pm//Friday, 17 th April 2015//5 weeks pregnant**

They’ve just finished eating dinner and are tidying up - Louis’ washing the dishes and Harry’s drying them - when Harry speaks. “You know what I need?”

“And what’s that, babe?”

“Those chocolate-covered coffee beans we got from Niall last Christmas. I think they were from Whittard?” He pauses for a second, looking like he’s in deep, deep thought. “Yeah, those.” He finishes, and then looks at Louis expectantly.

Louis just gapes at him.

“What?” Harry looks somewhat offended.

“Sorry. I don’t think I heard you correctly.” He sure hopes he didn’t.

“Chocolate-covered coffee beans. Whittard. I need them.” Oh. So Louis did hear him correctly. Great.

“You want me to go to Whittard. At half seven pm. To buy you chocolate-covered coffee beans.” Harry is probably getting irritated now.

 “Yes,” he says, long and drawn-out, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Is there a problem with that?”

Louis thinks for a long moment, weighing up the pros and cons of telling his boyfriend that yes, there very much is a problem, because it’s nearly 8 o’clock on a Friday night and Louis was looking forward to having a quiet night in, watching a movie and stuffing his face with anything but _chocolate-covered coffee beans_. Then again, Harry is already looking close to murderous at Louis’ delayed reply, so he does what they both knew he would do, and gives one meek nod. ”You’re damn well lucky that it’s late-night shopping tonight.”

Harry smiles and kisses him on the cheek, then slaps his bum when Louis turns around to leave.

~~~

**5:12pm//Monday, 11 th May 2015//9 weeks pregnant**

When Louis gets in from work, the house is unusually silent. He takes a few seconds to trawl through his memories of the last 12 hours or so, picking his way through only half-awake shower sex and staff meetings and PowerPoint presentations on Artaudian theatre techniques, trying to recall Harry notifying him that he’d be out when Louis got home. He comes up short.

His car and door keys get chucked into the bowl they keep on a low table next to the door. His brown Oxfords are kicked off without the laces being undone. His hand runs through his already mussed-up hair – a nervous habit. Louis walks down the hallway through to the poky little kitchen, assuming Harry’s in there. Harry isn’t, so Louis calls out: “Haz? Babe, where are you?” and gets a muted, “’m here,” in reply. It’s coming from their bedroom. Louis walks down the short hallway to the bedroom door, stands still, clears his throat and runs his hand through his hair again in apprehension before pushing the door open.

Harry is standing in front of the mirror with his black skinny jeans halfway up his legs, looking exceptionally sorry for himself. As soon as he catches sight of Louis, he blinks once, slowly, and then – without delay - bursts into tears.

Louis is shocked, to say the least. As far as he had been aware (until now, that is), Harry has sailed through his pregnancy. Granted, he’s only on week nine out of forty, but Louis was hoping that maybe the entire gestation period would be the same. People always have told him he’s too optimistic.

He rushes forward and - mindful of his baby bump - wraps his arms around his boyfriend, standing on tiptoes to properly reach, and buries his face in Harry’s neck, pressing kisses there until he gets a response and feels Harry’s arms come up to rest gingerly on the small of his back. He feels Harry’s body, previously wracked with sobs, slowly relaxing in his arms. As Louis rubs Harry’s back with one flat, firm palm, using the other to carefully untangle his curly hair, the sobbing gradually slows down into whimpers, and then subsides into occasional hiccoughs. When Louis’ satisfied that Harry won’t start crying again any time soon, he leans back from their embrace, brushes some errant strands of hair back from Harry’s forehead, and asks: “So, baby, what’s the problem?”

It takes a few failed tries, but eventually, Harry manages to get it out. “I got-” _sniffle_ “-home from school, and-” _sniffle_ “- I just wanted to take my chinos off and get into some _normal_ cl-” _sniffle_ “-clothes. So-” _sniffle_ “-I went to put these on, and-” _sniffle_ “-and-” _sniffle_ “-and they won’t _fit_ because I’m too _fat!”_ Oh, and here come the sobs again, but before they get too full-on, Louis speaks, because he had been prepared for this to happen. He’s always known that Harry’s cares a lot about what he looks like and can get insecure easily, so Louis’ already looked online and asked his friends who have kids, in case the situation ever did arise. And who said he wasn’t organised, because damn, he should get a bloody boyfriend of the year award for using his initiative in that way.

He leads Harry over to the bed, lays him down and cautiously climbs over his body, so he’s on all fours over him, but not touching. “Now listen,” he starts off. “I know you’re putting on weight and you don’t like it, but just _think_. All that extra weight you’ve put on is only because you’re consuming more calories to help _our baby_ grow and develop. _Our baby_. That’s _half me_ and half _you_ that’s inside you _right now_ and fuck if _that’s_ not the hottest thing I could ever imagine.” Louis takes a breath, “So just think of it this way: you are only being a good dad by eating more and gaining weight for _our baby_ , and I love you _so much_.”

By the end of his little speech, Harry is smiling.

~~~

**11:13am//Wednesday, 3 rd June 2015//12 weeks pregnant**

They’re only just about ready for one child, so of _course_ Louis had to pass on the Tomlinson twin gene and knock Harry up with two children.

They’ve just been into the hospital for the 12 week scan, and, though he’s really too big for this, Harry is now curled up on Louis’ lap in the back of their car, both of them sobbing away.

“ _Twins_. We’re going to have _twin_ babies.” Harry manages through his tears.

Louis nods where his chin is resting on his boyfriend’s shoulder. He could swear Harry’s sucking his thumb right now, but decides against calling him out on it. “That’s right. We’ll have _two_ little me and yous running around the house.”

~~~

**12:16pm//Tuesday, 14 th July 2015//18 weeks pregnant**

Harry’s teaching a Year 9 GCSE class all about the breathtaking wonder that is Handel’s _Messiah_ when he feels the flutter - as if a butterfly is beating its wings against the inside of his tummy. It’s so minute that if he was in any other situation, he would pass it off as nothing, but he knows what this is because he’s been waiting for it for several weeks now, desperate to feel it for himself after reading story after story online and in leaflets and in books of other people telling him what it’s like. So when he notices it, the first thing he feels is relief – like a burden has been loosed from off his shoulders and he can properly breathe. But as soon as that’s happened, the sudden realisation of what has just happened sets in. His hands promptly fly to his belly - making him drop the sheet music for ‘And the Glory of the Lord’ that he was in the process of handing out to his students – and he flops down in his chair with a heavy _thump_ sound. The twenty teenagers seated before him look somewhat inquiring, but mostly concerned. Harry says, “You can talk amongst yourselves for a bit – I just need to make a phone call,” and then hastily wiggles his hand into the pocket of his paternity jeans to remove his phone.

He’s got a wide grin stretching out his face as he dials Louis’ number – first on his favourites – and sends a prayer of thanks to whatever higher beings may exist when he remembers that Louis has a free period right now. Louis picks up on the first ring – Harry’s personalised ringtone on his phone is ‘Kiss Me Slowly’ by Parachute; bless him – and Harry tells him what happened in a hushed whisper, barely containing his new-found excitement. He has to hold the phone away from his ear when Louis screeches with joy, barely understandable, on the other end of the line, but it doesn’t stop his dimples from popping in full force.

~~~

**2:49pm//Monday, 27 th July 2015//20 weeks pregnant**

The 20 week scan goes just as smoothly as the 12 week did, and Harry - bless his little cotton socks - bursts into tears ( _again_ ) there and then in the hospital when they find out they’re having one boy and one girl.

“It’s more than anything I could have ever dreamed of,” he tells Louis conspiratorially when they find themselves cuddled in the back of the car, much like 8 weeks earlier when they received the news that Harry is carrying twins. And once more, all Louis can do is nod, wondering what he did for his life to be this perfect.

~~~

**4:31pm//Wednesday, 12 th August 2015//22 weeks pregnant**

Harry gets the Mary Janes and Chelsea boots in the end, because in the four years that they’ve been dating, Louis has learnt that what Harry Styles wants, Harry Styles gets.

They’re in the baby section in Zara again, this time shopping for their _own_ son and daughter, and Harry snatches them off the shelf and throws them into the basket with more gleeful excitement than you can shake a stick at. Louis attempts to hide the fondness he feels with a roll of his eyes, but the upwards tugging at the corners of his lips give him away (he should probably work on that, considering he’s a drama teacher and all).

~~~

**6:55pm//Thursday, 10 th September 2015//26 weeks pregnant**

Harry collapses (as carefully as one can collapse with a six and a half month belly) down onto the sofa, unsettling Louis a bit where he’s busy procrastinating putting together the flat-packed babies’ cots by watching reruns of World Cup 2014 football matches. He shifts to rest his head in Louis’ lap, where Louis’ fingers then automatically move to run through his silky hair.

“So I’ve been thinking,” he begins, steepling his long fingers together on the curve of his belly.

“Oh, better not do that, babe – it doesn’t usually turn out very well.” Louis teases, smiling down at his boyfriend, only to be met with a scowl.

“Are you _quite_ finished?” Harry questions indignantly. Louis has the decency to look abashed, but raises his hands in surrender when Harry’s cold facial expression doesn’t change.

“Sorry, love. Please continue with what you were going to say before I so rudely interrupted you.”

Harry smiles and nods, satisfied; then he says: “We need names.”

Louis considers making a joke about how they both already have names, but then chooses not to, remembering how his last attempt at joking went down. “Okay,” he says. “What do you have in mind?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Louis snorts. “I want something pretty for the girl, but not _too_ girly, like, not Rainbow, for example.”

Louis snorts a second time. “I’m glad, because no way in _hell_ am I going to let you name our child _Rainbow,_ of all things.”

Harry grunts in assent. “Well, I’m glad that that’s _one_ thing we agree on.”

Louis can already tell that this is going to take a while.

~~~

**3:48pm//Tuesday, 6 th October 2015//30 weeks pregnant**

Harry is the most stubborn person Louis knows, but he’s also more passionate about human rights and equality than anyone else Louis knows, so it’s really not surprising in the slightest that Harry was adamant about everything in the nursery being completely gender-neutral and not conforming to any stereotypes that “society has put in place.”

After much debate, they end up painting the walls a pale shade of mint green. The curtains that hang against the one window in the room and the fluffy rug in the centre of the room are matching – both white with soft grey polka dots. Wooden boards cover the entire floor underneath the rug, and on top of it is a white changing table stocked with seemingly endless bottles of sweet-smelling Johnson’s bubble bath and tubs of Sudocrem and industrial-sized packets of disposable nappies. A chest of drawers that stands under the window houses essential plain white onesies and muslin cloths and bibs with Disney characters on them. On top of that are plastic bottles and tins of formula. Photos in pretty frames of Harry, Louis, and all their friends and families cover the walls. There are two simple, white cots against the walls on either side of the room that have zoo animal-embroidered bumpers, sheets and blankets and hand-painted wooden sea creatures mobiles hanging above them that Harry and Louis received as gifts from Harry’s sister, Gemma. Attached to the wall next to the left cot, letters made of stripy fabric are strung on a ribbon; they spell out ‘Juliet’. The same is on the wall next to the right cot, but spelling out ‘Bryten’ instead.

~~~

**5:09am//Monday, 9 th November 2015//35 weeks pregnant**

It’s 5am when Harry feels it. It’s a sudden gush of liquid that wakes him up and causes him to gasp, leading to Louis waking up also, hyper-aware of his boyfriend as he always is (and always has been, since the day they met) anyway and now alert and ready to go at all times since about week 32 of Harry’s pregnancy. The two men’s hands automatically go to tangle together on the surface of the mattress between them, Louis somehow seeming to know exactly what’s happened without Harry telling him. Their heads slowly – as if a sudden movement could ruin everything – swivel ‘round to face each other, neither of them quite believing – _daring_ to believe - that the moment they’ve been waiting for for eight months has finally arrived. Harry, however, has no choice but to believe it when he feels a strong tugging sensation in his uterus, and yes, there definitely are two babies ready and waiting, eager to get out of his body as soon as possible. He doubles over at the sudden pain that invades his womb, like a menstrual cramp except it’s gradually getting more and more intense, climbing and climbing until it reaches its peak. Its peak turns out to be an acute pain, ripping through his whole body. He screws up his eyes, trying not to cry, and feels his jaw clench and muscles seize up, his hand gripping Louis’ so hard that his knuckles turn white and his fingernails could quite possibly be making Louis’ palm bleed. Harry can safely say it’s the worst pain he’s ever felt, but the one thing that makes it okay is the man next to him.

The pain is dwindling, now, and Harry focuses on his breathing as it becomes a dull ache. It’s only when he’s once more calm that he registers Louis’ fingers carding through his curls.

~~~

**8:12am//Monday, 9 th November 2015**

Juliet Andrea Tomlinson is born at 7:38am, weighing 5 ½ pounds, and her younger brother, Bryten Louis Tomlinson, is born seven minutes after that, at 7:45am, weighing 6 pounds. They both have a shock of frizzy, dark brown hair and the deepest blue eyes that both of their parents hope never change.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
